


His

by avengersgoddess



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengersgoddess/pseuds/avengersgoddess
Summary: Sandor Clegane knew he was a bastard.





	His

Sandor Clegane was a bastard. He knew this, the Gods he didn’t know if he believed in knew this. He was a mean, angry, hard, and ugly bastard. He was unrefined. He liked killing, he liked drinking. He liked cursing.

Sandor was also beginning to realize he was a possessive bastard, too.

He watched Sansa enter the Great Hall, stopping to talk to every single fucking person along the way. He didn’t like sharing her time, but he did like making her happy, so he dealt with it, knowing he got her at night.

Ever since he’d made his way North to her, he wanted her next to him. Ever since he learned about the bastard Ramsay, he needed her next to him. He needed to see her, to smell her, to touch her, to know she was there and his to protect.

Except she wasn’t his, not for five more days. Gods, he needed her to be. With her coy smiles, blushing cheeks, and lingering hands, he thought she might feel the same way. She was beautiful, smart, and so strong. He wanted to be the only one his strong woman submitted to. Not to break her or force her into a cage, but to be the one to prevent others from doing so. He wanted her to be strong and kind, but he also wanted her to look for him first thing in the morning, to seek his kisses, and to fall into his arms. He wanted to be man to her woman. The only time he’d ever be proud of his name was when she took it.

He wanted everyone to know she was his and if that slimy Lord fucker didn’t get his hands and eyes off her soon, he was going to snap each finger, slowly and painfully.

As his mind wandered about all the ways he could gut the man, he also started thinking of all the ways he could mark her. She could wear his colors. He could suck a bruise onto her neck. He could pick her up and toss her over his shoulder. He could bend her over the table and fuck her hard and fast, streaking his thick cum all over her thighs and back.

Sandor was a dirty bastard and once his mind thought about her covered in his seed, he lost it. She was probably going to be pissed at him, but he didn’t care as he stood up abruptly and stalked down the few steps from the high table. His eyes were almost black as he forced himself in between the two and scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder, mid sentence to Lord Fucker.

“Sandor!” she squealed. “What are you doing?? You brute! Put me down!”

“Can’t,” he grunted as he smacked her arse to stop her wriggling. He grabbed a handful and squeezed. Gods, he loved her arse. “It’s bedtime.”

The Great Hall grew silent as they watched their lady being carted off and away from them, no one stepping forward to intervene. They all knew he would never hurt her and no one missed the small laugh she let out when he smacked her arse again and kept walking towards his chambers. 

“You’re going to be sore by the time I’m done with you tonight. You’re going to be full of my cock and covered in my seed. Just when you think I’ll give you a break, I’m going to flip you over and show you what dogs do to wolves. And I’m going to cover your cunt in my seed and rub it in until your skin smells like me. And when you fall asleep tonight and every night after, you'll be wrapped up in me. Tomorrow morning, you’ll wake up to me fucking you and tomorrow night, you’ll fall asleep to me fucking you. ”

Sansa shivered. She loved his gravelly voice and she loved hearing all the things he was going to do to her. She loved knowing she was on his mind and that he needed her; she couldn’t stop thinking about him either, even as she would greet her people. He didn’t need to know that right now though.

“Sandor, we’re not married! It isn’t proper!”

“Don’t care. You’re mine, you’ll always be mine. What isn’t proper is you sneaking into my bed late at night and wriggling that wet little cunt against me.”

“I would never!” Sansa exclaimed, sounding like the perfect little lady.

“Really? So you’re saying that isn’t you who slides her little cunt along my cock, begging me to fill her up? Not you who begged me to just give her the tip, to give you a little of my seed?”

“Never,” Sansa lied, her cheeks bright red.

“Hmmm... well, then. Guess I better go find who’s been doing that then. Give her what she’s been been craving.”

She smacked his back, knowing he’d barely feel it. “Sandor Clegane, don’t you dare put me down. If you ever touch another woman, I will steal Needle from Arya and carve my name into your skin.” Sansa thought some more. “And then kill her.”

“Bloodthirsty woman,” he growled as he reached his chambers, smacking her arse one more time. He pulled her over his shoulder and slowly slid her down his body. He pushed her up against the door and captured her wrists in one hand, pulling them high above her head. His other hand came up, his fingers tracing the skin at edge of her dress’s neckline. Sansa breathed out shakily as his hand gripped the fabric tightly and ripped it down the center. When the torn garment caught on her tight, pink nipples, Sandor used his pinky to flick it open, exposing her creamy teats to his eyes. They were the perfect handful.

“Sandor!” she hissed, scandalized. “Anyone could see us!”

“Good,” he grunted. “They’ll know who you belong to. Should’ve taken you in the Great Hall, let everyone watch me claim you. Let them hear their lady moan my name and see her cum around my cock.”

“You’d let your men see me moaning for you? Hear me scream your name and beg for more?” She knew how to play this game too.

Sandor released a deep growl as she teased him back.

“On second thought, fuck no. Murder them in cold blood first.”


End file.
